


sometimes it takes time

by tincanspaceship



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotions, F/F, First Kiss, Fix-It, and there's a lot of em, jeez tags are hard, michael is a confused bi and a bit of an idiot, philippa georgiou is not dying today
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 15:33:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16043351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tincanspaceship/pseuds/tincanspaceship
Summary: Philippa listens. Philippa fires first.





	sometimes it takes time

**Author's Note:**

> o boy i'm tired. enjoy this story i dredged out of my notes. my tumblr is tin-can-spaceship if y'all want to check it out.

Michael stirs her tea absentmindedly. Philippa smiles and slides up next to her, a fragrant scent wafting out of her mug.

“Isik for your thoughts?” Michael glances at her curious face.

“I just narrowly avoided starting a _war_ , Captain, respectfully, I'd like to keep my thoughts to myself,” Michael murmurs, the soothing smell rising off her tea a mild sedative.

“No, Michael, you’ve been... _off_ since we got back.” Philippa takes a sip of her beverage. “It's something else.”

Michael bites her lip. “I...am confused. About–” she sighs “– _feelings_ , I suppose.” Philippa pats her shoulder.

“Michael, it's okay to talk about these things, you know. What's going on?”

“I... _you_ , Philippa.” She immediately regrets calling her Philippa.

“Me? What about me is confusing you, Michael?” she asks, a bit in disbelief.

“I…it feels so nice when you're around. Like I'm not a Vulcan experiment. Like I'm a Michael and I don't have to be anything else, because you don't make me choose.” Michael is tripping over her words.

“Showing you basic decency is no reason to concern you this much, my Michael,” Philippa notes, Michael's hand tingling at the use of her protective ‘my’.

“It's strange...I never want to leave my shift because I _like_ sitting next to you. The tiniest things draw my attention for minutes. I watched the light reflecting off your hair for fifteen minutes last week instead of doing paperwork. And I thought only a few seconds had passed...it's unusual.” Michael's words spill out.

“Go on,” Philippa prods, eyes wide.

“I--I...I find your–your physical affection desirable. It feels _good_ , Philippa.”

“That seems natural, for a human in a world which limited physical contact for most of her life,” Philippa adds. Michael waves her hand.

“No, it's not like that. It's... _different_.” Michael sighs, and Philippa squeezes her forearm.

“You are being very vague, Number One.”

“It's just…it's not how it feels when my mother would squeeze my arm. It's opposite, maybe,” she trails, unsure of her own words.

“I'm going to try something, Michael, just stay there and tell me if you're uncomfortable.” Philippa slides out of her chair, and wraps an arm around Michael's back, her other hand spread across the back of Michael's head, stroking her curls. She guides Michael's head to her neck, where it fits perfectly. “Don't be shy, Michael, you can hug me back. Does this feel good?” Philippa whispers. Tingling spreads across Michael's skull. Michael's hands jerk awkwardly to Philippa's back, her fingertips touching at the nape of Philippa's neck. She nods.

“It--it feels _wonderful_ ,” Michael stammers. Philippa brushes the top of Michael's head with her cheek before gently releasing her, patting her shoulder. Michael lets out an unprecedented disappointed whimper. She hides it with a cough.

“Michael, I think I know what's bothering you.”

“Isik for your thoughts?” Michael chuckles weakly.

“I think you have-and I apologize for the term I'm about to use-a _crush_. On me.” Michael freezes, her mind in overdrive.

“But...I'm not--I've nev–I'm not attracted to-to women, Philippa?” The phrase comes out as more of a question, confusion muddling her words.

“I don't meant to make you doubt yourself, but are you sure you just haven't realized it?” Philippa's voice is soft. Michael's mind is racing, searching for shards of faded memories, for hints.

“I...I always stared at this one girl during lunch at the Learning Center...I remember watching movies with Amanda and I'd try to draw the actresses...I..oh, Philippa, I thought it was envy of their clothes or their hair,” Michael rambles, her thoughts spilling everywhere. Philippa’s hand cradles the back of her neck.

“Michael, it's okay to be confused. It's disorienting to have your sexuality in flux. You don't need to solve this with logic, Michael, it's _human_ ,” Philippa soothes. “You might figure it out one day. You might _not_. It's okay, Michael, I need you to understand that.” Michael brings her hands to cup Philippa's chin, long fingers across her cheeks.

“I...I want to kiss you, Philippa, can I?” Michael whispers.

“You are welcome to, my Michael,” Philippa murmurs. Michael tilts her head a few times, her unfamiliarity with this affection clear. Her hands try to hold Philippa's shoulders, then her jaw, her thumbs can't find purchase on her collarbone. She sighs and lowers her head in resignation.

“Philippa, I'm sorry, it’s silly of me to think you could love me, I shouldn't have said anything,” Michael sputters, pushing her chair away from the table. Philippa grabs her wrist in a loose hold.

“Is this all because you're not sure how to kiss me? Or do you want time, Michael?” Philippa's voice is soft, accepting.

“I do think love you, Philippa, I'm just…” She's suddenly aware of the reddening of her cheeks. “I've never loved a girl before. You deserve better than my...my _fumbling_.”

“You're silly, Michael.” Philippa kisses her cheek with a light stroke of lips against her skin. “It doesn't matter.” Her hand rests on Michael's chin, and she leans forwards to kiss her. Michael freezes. The feeling of Philippa's soft lips against hers is fully absorbing, a thousand times the power of her hand on Michael's shoulder, a star the moment before supernova. Philippa’s hands stroke her back in patterns. Michael's arms jerk up to Philippa's hair, her jaw slack and Philippa's forehead touching hers. An _ohhhhh_ escapes her lips.

“Philippa…by the Gods, Philippa, I love you.” She smiles. “I guess that's a mystery solved.”

“What do you want to do now, Michael? I was thinking we could go have some cake. In celebration.” Philippa kisses Michael’s forehead.

“I'd like that. Then maybe we can go back to our quarters and get some sleep,” Michael starts. Philippa nods. “Is it strange I'd like you to brush my hair? I just want…” Michael trails off. Philippa leans out and runs a hand through her curls.

“That's not strange, Michael. We’ll go have cake, then go back to our quarters and I'll brush your hair while we watch a movie buried under approximately seven feet of blankets.” Michael chuckles. “And we’ll fall asleep and we _don't even have to get up for our shift._ ”

“Sounds perfect,” Michael affirms.

And they do everything.

**Author's Note:**

> hey thanks for reading! you're probably fantastic!


End file.
